Lessons Learned At College
by Missmishka
Summary: From the movie; Travis reflects on his relationship with Derrick before it begins it's final run to ruin.  Rated for language and slashy flashes.


_**Lessons Learned At College, by MissMishka**_

DISCLAIMER: The usual warnings, I claim no ownership of these characters, they are simply borrowed with love and adoration from the original creators to have their stories, thoughts or circumstances embellished on a little more than the original format had done. Not for any profit.

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><p>"<em>You can't drive a person to kill themselves. Naomi's weak. She's always been weak."<em>

The words kept replaying in Travis's head, telling him exactly where he stood in Derrick's life. They may not have applied to him, but the way that man had chosen to look _at_ Travis as he said them was telling.

Derrick had seen Travis's weakness from the start.

He'd thought the attention meant something. Thought that, despite the unlikelihood of it, the guy saw something worthy in Travis. Liked it and wanted that something.

He'd left himself vulnerable to his unlikely roommate, knowing there was never a chance or hope of _them_ as anything more than fumbling in the dark when Derrick was drunk and uninterested in picking up some ditz at a bar or party. But he'd still clung to a hope that it'd be enough to fill the void inside himself.

The hammer cracked the glass in the frame right over the girl's forehead. Just about where Travis would have put a bullet in his own head.

Jones was right; this was the only way.

Derrick Webb didn't see anyone outside himself.

He had only ever used him. Travis may struggle to come up with the cash for his share of the rent, but he'd been paying for his shelter in ways that would shock Jones.

It had been so good, though, those _transactions_.

Rough and desperate when he wanted to hurt and Derrick was always happy to flex his muscle. Slow, hesitant and gentle when Derrick knew the abyss Travis's mind hovered on the verge of falling forever into.

The gentle moments had fooled him. The way those blue eyes could _see_ into him. The exquisite softness of that full lower lip skimming over the chapped skin of Travis's own mouth. Those hands that ran through his hair, over his shoulders and back, soothing the shudders of nerves and want that had raced through him in the rare moments of intimacy with another person.

If only he had paid more attention to the other times, this might not be fucking so much with his head.

The first time should have told him what kind of man Derrick Webb really was, but some part of Travis had wanted it, like any rapist wanted you to believe after they finished with your flesh.

There was such beauty and charisma in the other man, everyone was drawn to him. Women flocked for a glance of those big, blue eyes; a kiss from those full lips and a chance to feel that leanly muscled body atop or against them. He was slick and cool, funny and smart, athletic yet approachable; so that men were drawn in want of friendship with a curiosity for more.

Travis had just been drawn to the invitation to be with another person. Derrick had wanted to spend time with _him_ and that had been more potent than any of the liquor they swilled in the bars or loft.

He'd been more intoxicated by the attention than booze when Derrick had brought him back to this flat that first night.

The kisses had surprised him when the other man shut them in the apartment then slammed Travis back against the door.

Everyone knew about what happened to the girls Derrick Webb brought back to his place, but that's what happened to _girls_ and whatever issues Travis had, gender had never been one of them. He'd always known and enjoyed that he had manly bits, loving the way his cock would get so hard and how all the pain and tension could seem to rush from him when he jerked off and blew a load into a handful of wadded up tissues or against the slick tiles of a shower.

Of all the rumors surrounding the illustrious Mr. Webb, there had never been one to even hint at an urge to experiment as most everyone seemed to do in college.

It hadn't just been experimental for the other man, though; Travis had figured that out sometime after the third or fourth encounter they'd had.

Derrick had known exactly what he was doing and what he'd wanted when he had shoved Travis through the loft, stripping them both while Travis had tried to get his head wrapped around what had been happening. The knowledge that he had wanted _Travis_ was still intoxicating enough to numb some of the memory of that painful shove of a thick, long dick forcing itself into his unprepared, untried asshole.

The kisses had been nice, but the touching had gotten scary and that thrust had just fucking hurt. Travis had never protested, but he'd stopped actively participating around the time Derrick had knocked him back on the bed. He'd been to surprised to do anything but lay there while the other man came over him, twisting his nipples till he arched and cried out then jerking at Travis's dick until it felt chafed raw.

When those hand had forced him over on to his stomach, he'd felt relief at getting his genitals out of that reach.

The spit he'd gotten before the penetration was likely only given so that his body would ease enough to allow anything to get inside it. He'd been torn and ruined in that moment, losing his erection and fighting back a scream while Derrick struggled to thrust in the channel that stayed clenched against the invasion.

Then Derrick had run his hand down Travis's back, caressing before gripping his hip with bruising force. He'd followed the gentle touch with a biting kiss to the side of Travis's neck that had reminded him of the pleasure that mouth was capable of. His head had turned blindly, instinctively toward those lips and Derrick had kissed him until he forgot the newness and pain of the moment.

He'd gotten caught up in it and hadn't cared that those lips turned hard, moving to leave biting bruises on any part that they could reach of the body pinned to the mattress by Derrick's pounding hip.

He'd seen the bites and scratches and bruises on his flesh and liked the evidence that someone had really, actually _wanted _him.

Until all of this, he'd even convinced himself that he'd enjoyed it all. There had been no denying that he'd climaxed, remembering that electric shock that had convulsed his entire being when Derrick pummeled his prostrate and blew his mind with the pleasure of the friction there.

But Derrick hadn't wanted Travis. He'd just wanted a different kind of body to fuck and Travis had just been pathetically desperate to connect with another person.

He was weak like that and that's why Derrick had aimed the words at him. The other man had known where Travis's thoughts had been going as their happy little ménage a trios began to disintegrate and he'd all but dared Travis to go ahead and kill himself.

Derrick wouldn't have cared.

Just another body he'd fucked that he wouldn't be screwing again.

Travis knew that Jones, that _this_ was the right way to go, but he thinks, as he stares at the image of Naomi through the fractured glass, he thinks the bullet would have been kinder.


End file.
